


Board Games & Nut Cakes

by storieswelove



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M, Gen, Helen is objectively ugly just ask Gen, and Sophos makes a continuous fool of himself, and men bend over backwards for a chance at one of her smiles, etc etc - Freeform, that's why people have almost started wars, the sibling energy is strong with these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storieswelove/pseuds/storieswelove
Summary: There is definitely, absolutelynoreason why Gen insists on harping on how ugly his cousin is. Not a single one.*After a long day, Helen and Gen play a game.
Relationships: Eddis | Helen & Eugenides
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Board Games & Nut Cakes

**Author's Note:**

> For Queen's Thief Appreciation Week, Day 2: Favorite Character. I've picked both Gen and Helen because I, like Sophos, am a bisexual disaster with a weird thing for the Eddisian royals. 
> 
> One of my favorite Queen's Thief rabbit holes is talking about Gen's intense cognitive dissonance around Helen's beauty (or lack thereof), despite acknowledging time and time again that men would walk across hot coals for a single smile from her. Sophos is ready to marry her after spending like two days in her presence. 
> 
> A friend maintains that Helen probably once, offhandedly, mentioned Gen wasn't her type, and he spiraled. I think she's probably right.

“Gods, I can’t believe Helen’s attendants forced her to wear that  _ horrid _ dress,” the king said with a shudder. Two days of travel, a three-hour ceremony marrying his cousin to his dearest friend, the final step in a long, complex plot to save his former countrymen, and the dress was what Eugenides found worth noting. 

Irene had seen the dress. The dress had been fine. Eddis didn’t have her cousin’s affinity for ornate ceremonial clothes. But few people did. She shook her head. “What did your poor, dear cousin ever do to you?” 

“What do you mean?” He had settled himself into the ornate armchair on the far side of the room, and was working the cuff of his hook off with his left hand. 

The queen of Attolia crossed the room to her husband, and gently pushed his hand away so she could remove the sleeve for him. It was an easier job with two hands; helping him was the least she could do. 

“I have never, in all the years we’ve known one another, heard you comment on another person’s appearance with the derision you reserve for Eddis. A woman so beloved that wars were nearly started in pursuit of her hand in marriage. I know you, dear husband. This is retaliation. So I ask you again — what did she do?” She twisted the cuff, and it slid off with a quiet  _ pop _ . 

“How little faith you have in me,” Eugenides said, trying hard to sound affronted. He rubbed the end of his arm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. She just has an unfortunate face.” 

Irene rolled her eyes. There was no point in pressing the matter. He would merely lie if she did. She lowered herself into his lap, and began to massage his arm. 

*

Public forum days were exhausting. Helen tried to handle them with grace. She knew — she knows — that the people of her country have legitimate concerns and needs, and she wants to do right by them. 

It does not change the fact that she spends ten hour days listening to every grouse, grievance, and genuine hardship from people who have traveled with the singular hope that she might alleviate their troubles. 

She had learned, in the last few years, how to ease the stress of the forum days. She took lunch privately. Dinner was still with the court, but the kitchens had specific instructions to make it a lighter affair. In the summers, she was usually in her room by the late evening sundowns. Her attendants draw her baths with the oils from Zaboar she loves, and then leave her be for the rest of the night. 

And Eugenides. Eugenides helps. 

He had been so young when she became queen, and still, he had understood better than anyone her need for normalcy. 

He still stole her earrings. He still stuck his leg out to trip her when she walked past. 

And, most importantly, he still gave her hours where she was allowed to be his cousin and not his queen. 

He arrives tonight not long after her bath, moments after her attendants had finished brushing her hair. She hears the click of a latch and turns to see him slipping through the hidden door behind the tapestry — she wonders if anyone alive knows about it other than him.

“Oh, it’s you, Eugenides.” 

Smiling, he wordlessly unstraps a leather satchel from his shoulder and pulls a small terni lapilli board; a handful of black stones and white ones; a book she doesn’t recognize; and a small, carefully wrapped package that turns out to be nut cakes. 

“Where did you get these?” she asks suspiciously. The palace kitchens hadn’t made them in weeks. Their nut harvest had been scarce last year, and they weren’t worth the cost to import. 

Gen shrugs from where he’s settled onto the floor, cross legged, setting up their game. “The cooks like me.” 

Helen takes a bite. These were not made with Eddisian honey, she is sure. The flavor is distinct. “ _ Which _ cooks?” 

Gen smiles. “All cooks like me.” 

She sighs. It isn’t worth the argument. He would lie anyway. Quietly, she hikes up her nightshirt and settles onto the floor in front of him. She scoops the black pieces into her hand, and places the first stone. There are some benefits to being queen. 

Helen wins the first two rounds — she suspects Gen lets her. She appreciates it. She could use a win today.

He seems to know, intuitively, that she doesn’t want to talk tonight. Or more specifically, that she doesn’t want to force conversation. She’s done that enough today to last her until the next harvest. 

“Oh!” She does remember one story she meant to tell him, though. She’s sure it will amuse him too. “Do you know what one of the visiting Medians said to me today?” 

“Hmmmm?” Gen doesn’t bother looking up from the game, hand overing above the board as he decided between two places. 

“He asked if we would be married.” 

Her thief’s head snapped up. “You and the Mede?”

“No! You and me!” The idea, outrageous to anyone who had ever met either of them, made laughter bubble over from her chest. It felt good to laugh like this. She hadn’t in a long while. 

Gen recoiled in horror. “What?!” and then, after watching Helen try and fail to catch her breath, body shaking with giggles, he adds, “what’s so funny?” 

“Eugenides! Can you imagine? My gods, I would—” but it’s really too ridiculous to think about, her and her baby cousin, so she just exaggerates a full-body shudder and continues to laugh. 

“Well, you’re no prize yourself!” he says, a little indignant, arms folded tightly across his chest. The game lays forgotten at his knees. At this, she manages to quell her laughter. 

He injures easier since his mother passed. She forgets to be gentler with him, sometimes. She lays a hand on his knee. ”Eugenides.” She says his name more softly this time. “You and I both know it would be a race to see which of us would strangle the other first.” 

He still won’t meet her gaze, but she can see one corner of his mouth has upturned. “You’re right. I wouldn’t want to be married to anyone who looks like she’s had to be pinned down and forced into her dresses anyway.” He looks up and smiles toothily at her now. “I told you to stop letting them harass you for wearing pants.” 

She flushes. She’s in no position to be turning down feminine clothing, not with her face. She has his brother to thank for that. “It’s all right. I don’t mind them that much.” She doesn’t. Mostly. She does prefer trousers, though. She might wear them if she had the beauty to match her namesake. 

“Mmmmm,” he says, his tone dripping in disbelief. He fixes his attention back on the game briefly. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

She opens them when he speaks again. “Well,” he says, gesturing down at the board where he has three black stones in a row. “It looks like I win this round.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The board game mentioned was actually one played by the Byzantines! You can find a little more about it [here](http://www.byzconf.org/board-games-in-the-ancient-world/). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! All my love to [ships_to_sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/pseuds/ships_to_sail) for continued beta support.
> 
> Come scream about QT with me on tumblr @ [storieswelove](storieswelove.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> Fic crossposted [here](https://storieswelove.tumblr.com/post/621056504476450816/board-games-nut-cakes-the-queens-thief) for easy access.


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